Vampire Hunter
by MissieB76
Summary: She comes from a long line of hunters that slay only Vampires. When Gwyn crosses paths with the Winchesters, Gwyn and Dean butt heads.. Dean is old fashion when it comes to hunters. One thing that was told time and time again in his house; women had no place in this type of business. When Gwyn goes missing, it's up to Dean to swallow his pride and help find her.


She loved bars. Loved the loudness, loved the strong drinks, loved watching the people. She was a hunter and that is what she loved to do. As long as she could remember, she had been a hunter. Her father had taken her on a camping trip when she was just ten years old. What she didn't know, something had been hunting them. In the middle of the night, she had woken up by her dad yelling at someone. She had watched her father die in the hands of Vampires. From then on, she made it her mission to slay every single Blood Sucker she could find.

She sat on the bar, a glass of Scotch in her hand, her attention on the pool table. A group of men stood around, making bets. Being a hustler herself, she could clearly see who was being played.

One of the players, was tall, shaggy hair that touched the collar of his blue and green plaid shirt, was very good. She could tell he was acting to be bad, just to get some money. Her attention focused on his buddy, shorter than him, black T shirt and a green army jacket and very handsome. He was the loud mouth of the two, jaunting, teasing the men. It came to no surprise to her, that the duo won.

Dean Winchester loved nothing more than hustling pool with his brother. They made a very good team. Sam played the guy who didn't play very well while Dean sat back and mouthed insults, making the players pay more money.

He was about to take a sip of his beer, when he spotted her looking over at them from the bar. Her lengthy, curly hair was almost a chestnut color, it seemed to gleam underneath the lights of the bar. Her eyes were very a very dark color. She had on a pair of black leather pants, and a red leather jacket that skimmed the waist of her jeans. The skin tight tank top, let him know that she was driving half the male population in this bar crazy.

As a drunken man turned her down, he knew he had to at least try. Seeing her turn down man after man, made it sort of a challenge for him. Since watching the love of his life die in front of his eyes, he opted at a chance for one night stands.

He strolled up to the bar, standing next to her and signaled to the bar tender. "Hey George. Can I get another beer." He turned to her. "Want anything?"

"Double shot of Scotch please." She wasn't one to turn down a free drink.

"I'm Dean by the way." He leaned up against the bar, placing his elbows on the wood. This close up he could see that here eyes were a very dark purple, almost lavender. . "And you are?"

"Not interested." She slid off the bar stool, taking her shots and walked over to the jukebox.

Dean heard a chuckling and turned his head to see the bartender looking at him. He shook his head and started to dry a shot glass. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing man...just you're the tenth guy she turned down this night. That girl is harder to get into than Fort Knox. Been in here every night and not once has she left with someone."

"Hmmm." Dean turned his head and watched the woman as she bent over to select a song from the jukebox. His eyes landed on her tight ass"Who is she?"

"Names Gwyn Lacey."

Dean turned to the bartender, than over at the woman at the jukebox. There was no way in hell this young girl, probably no older than 22, could be related to the famous Lacey's of Sioux Falls, Iowa. But as he really studied her, he knew she was a hunter. Black thigh high combat boots covered the lower half of her leather pants, a perfect place to tuck a knife into. Her leather jacket even had a purpose. He bet he would find a flask of holy water, maybe a gun and maybe a picture or two of a loved one she lost. Every hunter had a story, every hunter lost someone close to them. This wasn't a profession you just wake up and decide you want to do. No, this was a profession you chose because you wanted revenge.

He remembered hearing the story from Bobby a few years ago. When she was just 10, Gwyn had lost her father. Rumors swirled around the small town about what happened, but Dean knew the truth. Her father, her grandfather, even her great great grandfather, were Vampire slayers.

This wasn't a profession for a pretty lady like herself, it was just too dangerous. She was way over her head. But did Dean really care? He let out a sigh and took a drink of his Scotch and turned back to the bartender. "Refill."

The bartender poured the Scotch into the Tumbler and motioned behind Dean. "Looks like your lady friend found someone."

Dean turned around in the bar stool to see that Gwyn was walking out the door with a man half her age. He grimaced and shook his head. "Her loss. Hope he remembered to take his Viagra" Dean turned back around and continued to sip his drink, feeling something tickling in the back of his mind. That man was twice as big as Gwyn, he could easiliy over take her. _Let it go Dean,_ he told himself. _Not your fight_. But knowing how small she was and how big that guy was, he had to do something. He would never live it down.

"Son of a bitch," Dean spat as he fished out a $20 and slapped it down on the counter, He took the last swig of his Scotch and walked out the bar.

Gwyn had spotted the man when she had bent down to check the jukebox. She had noticed him before. He was the man the Winchesters were hustling. Year of experience told her what she needed to know, what she needed to see. The man was bigger than her, by 200lbs. She would have to be careful when she did take him down, she had to outsmart him. And this is where her sexuality kicked in. The ones that were twice her size, she seduced them. Men or woman, it didn't matter to her. As long as they were dead in the end.

She followed the trucker out the bar, feeling the fear creep up inside of her. No matter how many times she had done this, it always scared her. She knew what kind of monsters they were, so she ignored her gut screaming at her.

"Uhh..which one's yours?" Gwyn reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, feeling the coldness of the syringe.

The man turned to look at her, a smile on his face. He pointed to a rusty ford truck. "This one here." He smiled at her as he opened the passenger door. "After you?"

Gwyn turned her body away from the man, reaching into her jacket. She spun around and plunged her arm down, but the man was prepared for her. He swung his arm up, hitting Gwyn's hand, the syringe clattered to the ground.

She was pushed to the ground and she watched as the man took off into the alleyway. It took a few seconds before Gwyn could get to her feet and when she entered the darkness, the man was gone. She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Son of a bitch."

She was about to walk away

when a hand covered her mouth. She let out a scream, but an arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her into the alleyway. She kicked with her legs, trying to make contact with her attackers shins. When screaming didn't work, she opened her mouth and bite down on the hand.

"Awww.." A husky voice barked. The hand let go of her waist and she turned around and put her foot into the attacker's chest pushing him into the wall. There was a clatter as her knife fell to the ground. "What the hell?"

Gwyn pushed her hair out of her face noticing Dean against the wall. "What are you following me?" She bent down to grab her knife. "Way to go. I was trailing that guy for months. Son of a bitch!"

"Did you know he's a Vampire?"

"Not shit." She turned from Dean.

Dean grabbed her arm and spun her around. "You could have at least thank you sweetheart."

Gwyn laughed. "Thank you? For what? Scaring off that Vamp I've been trailing. That was months of hard work."

"He could have killed you!" Dean tightened his grip on her arm. "This isn't some fairy tale sweetheart."

Gwyn yanked her arm out of his grasp. "I can handle my own Dean Winchester." She slid the knife into her jacket.

In a swirl of lavender, she was gone. Dean shook his head and looked at her getting into her '69 Camaro. Little did Dean know, that they would again cross paths.


End file.
